


another restless night

by clionetiddies



Category: Riviera: The Promised Land
Genre: (bc op is a fucking coward), M/M, Very much AU, and very much self indulgent bullshit, anyway, don't expect much of me, reupload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22273003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clionetiddies/pseuds/clionetiddies
Summary: another hour crawls by, each second a year. it seems time has abandoned you in the dark.
Relationships: Ecthel | Ein / Ledah Rozwelli
Kudos: 5
Collections: Reformation AU





	another restless night

**Author's Note:**

> a self-indulgent fic about... an idiot bitch failure of a grim angel experiencing emotion(?) and physical contact. very poorly.  
> this fic is a part of the [Reformation AU](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/asgardanew) \- but all you need to know is that Ledah Is Alive and wow he sure is feeling... something!

You've never managed to sleep easily, nor have you needed to for some time. From the moment you were granted your title of Divine Weapon, sleep was of little import, a frivolous hobby oft passed up in favor of serving your purpose. It was not vital to your continued existence, so why bother?

(Your thought process was quite strange, in retrospect. But you wouldn’t come to realize that until long after The Incident.)

While it still remains unnecessary, however, you now find yourself in a situation where rest is customary, where refusal would cause more trouble than its worth, and have taken to the nightly ritual with difficulty. This is not your first sleepless night, but one of many – and it will certainly not be your last.

It's all too understandable that sleep continues to evade you – the bed is too small, unable to compensate for the full length of your relaxed wingspan, and the heat is sweltering, overwhelming to your neglected senses and clammy skin even when you strip to the barest your pride will allow.

You doubt you'll ever become accustomed to the feeling of a warm body by your side.

Surely this is a sensation you've felt before. Somewhere deep in the recesses of your time-damaged mind, you seen to recall sharing a childhood bed with your elder sister, before she grew and complained and demanded a room all her own. Back then you had pleaded with her, all tears and runny nose, not to leave you by yourself – insisted there was a monster beneath your bed that she was keeping at bay, and were rightfully scolded for believing such a thing at your age. (It was only half a lie – the great beast Loneliness would torment you for years, even before her departure.)

But that was long ago, and this… is different.

Your eyes wander, well-adjusted to the darkness heavily blanketed over the room, and settle on your companion’s back. While normally clingy in the early hours of the night, you have found that he almost always ends up turning from you in the depths of his sleep, equally overwhelmed by the all-encompassing heat you're struggling to bear. It hardly bothers you – even now, you find it difficult to be properly affectionate with him, and the minimal coolness provided by his separation is a relief – but that doesn’t stop you from reaching out for him nonetheless, reflexively, an action you don’t register until your fingertips make contact with the warm skin between his shoulder blades.

You pause, observing the scars there. In Asgard, his lack of wings would have surely affected every aspect of his day-to-day life – the architecture had always been visually stunning but often useless, winding towers and floating platforms made unnecessary by the flight of its occupants – but this village had proven almost too perfect in compensating for his handicap. Perhaps he isn’t lying, then, when he insists he doesn’t regret his decision, but you can’t shake the visual of him lying at the Magi's feet, broken and bleeding, his fate sealed by a contract signed with bile and stained feathers – 

You shudder and close your eyes. It's best not to think about such things.

Instead you slide your hands across his waist, pulling him flush against you. The heat is absolutely unbearable, but you revel in its intensity, as you have for countless nights now. 

It's laughable, really. The two of you always end up separated by daybreak, but you, the Angel who sacrificed your very ability to feel, are never the one to pull away.

You never would have expected to become so annoyingly comfortable with this purposeless existence.

“Ledah?” 

Ein's voice is still heavy with sleep. You must have woken him. Your hands curl around his abdomen stubbornly, cold palms against heated flesh.

“It's alright,” you insist. “Go back to sleep.”

He yawns and shifts slightly in your arms. You reflexively tighten your grip in response, but he makes no effort to move away (much to your relief).

“It's hot…” The complaint is sluggish, half-hearted.

“Mm,” you respond gracefully, burying your head into the crook of his neck. His pulse is steady and strong against your cheek. You feel relaxed.

He starts to say something else, but it comes out as little more than an incomprehensible mumble as sleep reclaims him, leaving you alone with the night once more. Yet despite your inability to follow suit, the bed made for one, the oppressive heat radiating from his relaxed form… you aren’t particularly displeased. 

You mutter something as well, the earnest confession muffled and unheard, and settle into a peaceful faux-slumber, contentedly waiting for the night to end. 


End file.
